Syndrome
by Candy Maiden
Summary: A new disturbing case gets under the skin of each member of the BAU. Disturbing videos show up one day, and the girl they personally have to save has Stockholm Syndrome, making it that much more difficult to find their unsub. Eventual Reid/OC
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, so I'm pretty new to Criminal Minds fanfiction, hell, Criminal Minds itself is pretty new to me, too. My friend has season 1-5 on DVD, we watched it together in one sitting… twice… and I fell in love with Dr. Reid (and MGG) so… yeah. Please tell me if anything seems incorrect to you, I'm trying really hard to make this as canon as possible. I've only seen each episode 2 times, and at the most, 5. Also, this takes place before Emily Prentiss' 'death'. **

**Of course we all know I don't own CM, I'm not making any profit, etc. **

* * *

><p>It was a mid-spring Monday morning, and nothing spectacular had happened thus far the entire year. It was already May, and no exceedingly exciting cases popped up. Believe it or not, the same M.O. and same regular serial killer started to really get boring. But, in reality, it was better that way, because they knew more of a 'regular' serial killers profile than one that was completely insane. It was kind of a disturbing thought, but everybody in the BAU had wished for a more engaging case at least once. But, they knew better.<p>

All the members seemed content with this lull in psychos, and their jobs were easy at this point. But as each of the members strolled in, placing their morning coffee cups on their desks, starting up their computers, and chatting idly with one another, they had no idea what was in store for them.

Garcia hadn't arrived yet, nor had Reid, but everybody else was starting on their work. Once everybody's computer had been turned on, save for the absent, nothing unusual had happened. The first one to notice the little message from the toolbar was Prentiss. She just ignored it, and clicked the tiny 'x'. About 5 minutes later, it was back. She clicked the 'x' again. It said nothing, save for a linked button that said 'Open'. She didn't really care about it. Morgan just clicked the 'x', too. Everybody else in that FBI building, unbeknownst to them, all had the same little message popping up. They all just ignored it, not exactly caring.

Garcia came in a little late with Reid, the both of them stopping for coffee but getting caught in traffic. Both were in good spirits, and the relatively mundane chatter continued even as Reid sat at his desk. He turned on his computer, and said goodbye to Garcia, heading towards her lair.

All of her computers were already on, running, and her main one had the smaller message, all the others, even her laptops, had a video playing. She couldn't quite make out what they were, and headed to her computer. She noticed the message, and letting curiosity take the better of her, clicked the 'Open' button.

It only took half a second for Morgan to spring out of his chair after he heard his Baby Girl scream. He ran to her lair, gun out and everything. All he saw, and Reid and Prentiss in tow, was Garcia standing, looking at the video playing. They slowly came in, and after looking at all the videos displayed, instantly knew why Garcia wore the horrified expression.

Each monitor had a different video than the next, all in full color, of victims being tortured. Some were children, some were adults, one was a teenager, and there was even on a baby. Each were in different states. The baby was clearly just taken, but the teenagers' body was begun decomposing. The only things common to them was that they were gagged or had duct tape over their mouths. And, they each had a sign taped to their chests that read different messages, but each had a name and address, and one sentence in another language. No exception.

"All I… All I pressed was open…" Garcia managed to get out, finally moving to sit in her chair. "Who would do this?" she began, her voice starting to get a bit hysterical.

"What do you mean, pressed open?" Prentiss asked, looking at the screens. She was trying to figure out what the signs meant. No one would really go through all the trouble of catching a victim to just openly give away where they are, right?

Hotch was the next one to come in, unpleasantness marked all over his face. He looked around, noticing the videos playing. He cleared his throat to get everybody's attention; Morgan was comforting Garcia, Reid was studying the victims, and Prentiss was about to begin questioning Garcia. They all looked at their Chief, awaiting what he was going to say.

"It seems these videos are playing on all the computers in this building, and they're sending out squads to get the victims and bring them back. We've been asked to start assessing the unsub's M.O. and develop a profile. But, there's only one victim who doesn't have a name or address attached. Reid, you should see this." He quickly walked out, Reid walking to catch up with him, still confused about this. How could someone just put the videos on each computer? That was something for Garcia to answer, he assumed.

Reid followed Hotch to Reid's own computer in the bullpen. Another FBI agent was already looking at it. The video was of a girl, who looked like an older teen. Long, very straight hair, eyes that held the look of death… and the only one without tape over their mouth and outside. She looked very drugged, and extremely starved. Bruises were evident throughout her body; all she was wearing was a tank top and shorts, and the sign. It held a separate message. "Il mio fiorella, il mio orgoglio e gioia; ma e una trappola. A lei deve avere le merci; sara in Quantico boschi." Reid said aloud, letting it stir in his mind. "It's Italian, but I don't know what it means-" he was cut off by the unknown FBI agent, "It says 'My little flower, my pride and joy; she is but a decoy. To have her you must have the goods; she'll be in the Quantico woods. It's a game of some sort, and we aren't sure what the 'goods' means, but you guys have to go out and get her, we don't have enough people to get each person at the same time. There are over 100 victims in Virginia alone." And with that, the FBI agent got up and left. That would be the best briefing they would receive before the entire team heading out.

* * *

><p><strong>So, what'd you think? Please only write reviews of constructive criticism or something <strong>_**even mildly useful**_**, not just 'lol hope u update!' or the like. At least tell me what you liked and didn't like. It was a very difficult chapter to write, and I know I need to go back and view it over again, but please bear with me. I don't really care for reviews like everybody else; it's the alerts I do… it means you actually want to continue reading this. And, I promise my notes won't be this long again, so thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you to everybody who added me to their alert list, it made me feel special :D**

Anybody who has been to Virginia at any point in their lives knows two things: the drivers are horrible and rude, and there are woods everywhere, even next to the beaches. So when the team wasn't really given any clue as to where to begin their search, they all decided to split up; thank goodness the only densely wooded area shown in the video was not only close by, but also relatively small. It seemed like the killer wanted all his victims to be easily found.

They quickly dispersed into two teams, one for the north and one for the south, each team with one paramedic. The girl didn't seem as if she could make it much longer. Reid and Hotch were covering the northern part, while Morgan and Prentiss covered the southern. The entire way there in front of the ambulance, leading them, was full of uneasiness; they had never had an unsub like this one before.

_Over 100 in Virginia alone. _That was way too many people to just go under anybody's noses. There seemed to be no victimology to this guy, either; people of all races, genders, ages, mental states… it's like he just picked up random people and killed them. But that would alert somebody, right? Thoughts like these were racing through everybody's minds, until they reached the Quantico Woods. Each team got out so quickly and started searching that the paramedics had to run to catch up.

There were no footprints, there were no over-turned leaves or brush, and there was absolutely no indication as to anybody being in these woods for the past few years. They could hear no noises save for the birds and the rustling leaves, but that was it. It seemed like it was a hoax until one of the paramedics traveling with Hotch's team caught the smell of bleach, considering it was so strong. Both followed the young EMT, until finally coming across the camera and young girl.

It was a terrifying sight to all of them. Hotch walked away a little, calling to alert the other team the girl had been found. He also checked his watch; they were searching for 18 minutes, not very long. Reid just stared at the girl, he couldn't even begin analyzing with problems the unsub had. The paramedic began treating all the open wounds, also removing the sign. The girl had fading bruises under fresher ones, open gashes that were oozing blood, a lip that had bite marks, pus-oozing cuts, and one thing that was too gruesome for him to stomach. The smell of bleach was from the girl, there was dirt thrown onto her stomach and upper left arm and shoulder, where large burn marks were shown. The same necrotizing on the edges, red and blistering and showing muscle tissue burn marks of a bleach burn. The dirt was obviously to jump start infection, meaning death if they had never found her.

The girl was moving her head, trying to get words out, but just couldn't. The strange thing was, her face was completely unharmed. Her hair was neat, but her eyes seemed lifeless. Her neck was fine as well, but everywhere else on her body was a disgusting abuse case. The paramedic was applying first aid while calling the other paramedic, requesting the gurney, and telling them their location. Reid was studying the area with Hotch, looking for anything that may help them. There were still no footprints or anything else.

Reid was getting frustrated, and ran his hand through his hair, blowing out a sharp breath as he felt pain. He looked above him, noticing the culprit of his pain: a sharp and stray tree branch that just sliced his forearm. He gripped it, trying to stop the bleeding; it wasn't profuse or gushing, but it was still bleeding. Hotch was alerted to this as soon as he noticed Reid wasn't following anymore. "What happened?" He, of course, had seen nothing. "Oh, just some tree branch… the statistics of which being only 1 in 50,000. I'm either very lucky for beating those odds or unlucky in the same sense-" he was quickly cut off by Hotch, who was smirking. "Go with the paramedics and get it checked out. Question the girl if you can while you're there. I'll send Prentiss and Morgan when we meet up." Reid sighed, heeding the orders given to him.

The other paramedic arrived, both hoisting the girl onto the gurney. Both of the EMT's and Reid headed towards the ambulance as soon as they could; the girl looked like she needed fluids right away. They got there fast, hooking up IV's and one climbing to the front, starting to drive. The girl was still conscious, as she was moving her head. She tried sitting up, but couldn't. "Just lay down, honey, it's all right…" the EMT trailed off, putting in some painkiller and letting the girl drift off. She looked at Reid, not even noticing when he climbed in, and especially not when he grabbed a towel to mop up all the blood from his wound.

"Why are you in here? Shouldn't you still be at the crime scene…?" she asked, confusion laced in her voice. "Oh, no, the others will stay there. I cut my arm on a stray branch, and they asked me to come with you guys and get it checked out, then I was ordered to question the girl." He explained, only giving what he needed to say. It satisfied her curiosity, and she went over to look at it. She rolled up the shirt, and started putting disinfectant on it. "It's really not that bad, not very deep. Just keep it wrapped and it'll heal fine." She said, wrapping it up just in time for the ambulance to make its stop at the hospital.

She was quickly wheeled into a room in the ICU, and received attention from many doctors and nurses. It seemed the burns were worse than any of them thought and they worked efficiently to bring up the very rapidly decreasing heartbeat she had. He just waited outside, watching through the window. The nurses were updating him when they could, and he hadn't realized how long he just stood there until Morgan and Prentiss came. He checked his watch; _2 hours. _

"So, what's the news?" Morgan asked, looking at the girl. "The burns are third degree. Fractured bones in her burned arm, but they can place a splint there. Sprained ankle and hematoma on the back of her knee, where she also pulled a muscle. One of her lungs was building up with fluid, and they just stabilized her heartbeat. They're running tests now, and they're going to wake her up in a few minutes for us to talk to her." he said it coldly; he always wondered why anybody would do this. He knew the true answer of course; it was their psychological state and problems. But he never reasoned with himself as to why someone would do this. He just had to keep reminding himself, the people weren't thinking straight.

Mantras like that had never helped to ease Spencer.

"That sounds awful…" Prentiss trailed off, meaning to say more, but mouth agape at the scene before her. The last doctor came out, nodding to Reid. "We just gave her the medicine to wake her up. I'll give you the report when it's ready," he patted Reid on the shoulder as he walked away, adding, "And find who did this to her. He deserves to die for what he's done." He nodded back, walking into the room with the other two in tow.

The girl was starting to sit up lazily, with eyes half- lidded. She looked at the figures in front of her, her emaciated body not responding well to her sitting position. She looked at Reid, then Morgan, but kept her eyes on Prentiss. It made her uneasy. Reid sat in the chair, Morgan next to him, and Prentiss stayed near the window. The girls gaze never left Prentiss.

"I'm SSA Derek Morgan, this is Dr. Spencer Reid, and that's SSA Emily Prentiss. We're from the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit, and we wanted to ask you some questions." Morgan started, trying to get her attention. Prentiss gave a small smile at the girl, getting closer to her. She noticed the recoil the girl had. "I'm Emily Prentiss," she put on a bigger smile, "and we just wanted to know some things. What's your name?" she asked politely, trying to get any ounce of warmth from this girl. She said nothing for a few seconds. "Get out." Her voice was hoarse and weak, but it held firmness despite being slow due to the heavy pain medications the girl was on. "E-excuse me? We can't leave until we get answers." Prentiss said back, with a strong foot to hold her down, evident in her voice. "Just you." She coughed after she said it, but never took her eyes of Prentiss. If looks could kill…

The other agents shrugged, and Emily scoffed as she walked out. '_They better get their damn answers…_' The girl turned her gaze to Reid and Morgan as soon as the door shut. "I don't like other women. My papa doesn't either." The girl opened up, voice still weak. "Well, what's your name?" Morgan asked, angered slightly over the fact he just let an SSA walk out.

"Celia. Celia Simone DaMilo. My papa named me after my mama… Lia Simona DaMilo." She gave a weak smile. But, she had opened up to the agents, exactly what they needed. "That's nice, and how old are you Celia, 15, 16…?" Reid asked next, also polite. He was already setting up a profile of this girl. She had a confused look after he asked that, and he could see she was thinking. "I'm either 24 or 25. I don't know what day it is today. I know my birthday is May 24th… but that's it. My papa stopped letting me out of the house a long time ago." She said blankly, pondering on her age. Reid and Morgan were not happy with this.

**A/N: The drivers really are bad in VA. Especially near Virginia Beach and D.C. And this chapter was hard to write, I'm so scared of OOC characters. Anyway, keep alerting and review with criticisms… thank you for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Not too much to say. I just want to get to the good part of the story, which won't be for awhile, it seems…**

* * *

><p>If the killer really was sheltering one person, there had to be more. They were blessed this girl, woman, whatever she was, was talking. "Celia, was there anybody else kept inside with you? Do you know where you were?" Reid asked, inquiring to know more.<p>

"No, I was the only one since mama died. My papa's never been the same since then. But, I know he wasn't the one to do this to me, don't worry. And all I know is that my papa and I live in a house near the I-64, in the woods. I remember the signs when we last went somewhere together…" she trailed off, knowing she was talking a lot. Her moderate accent didn't help how fast she talked. She looked over at the window; there were now two more men next to Prentiss, both older than Reid or Morgan. She kept her eyes on the younger of the older men, who walked in, heading towards Reid and Morgan, whispering something in their ears, then going to her bedside.

"I'm Agent Hotchner. Listen, if you know anything about these murders, you have to tell us. We'd appreciate anything you knew. Morgan is coming with the rest of the team, but Dr. Reid will stay with you." He patted her right shoulder, taking his leave with Morgan, and seemed unfazed as he left the room. It was one of those rooms where only loud noises could penetrate, because bad news seemed to always be exchanged in the ICU. "All the victims we've found so far are dead. Either from starvation, dehydration, panic, shock, the wounds inflicted, or the tank of carbon monoxide that was left on in every single room we found the victims in. That girl is the only living one we have to find this unsub. We have to go to every single crime scene, and figure out why he's taking who he's taking and doing what he's doing." Hotchner finished, starting to walk away with the rest of his team in tow.

Back in the hospital room, there was an atmosphere of uneasiness. Celia kept staring at Reid, as if she disliked any presence whatsoever, male or female. "So, Celia, do you know who did this to you and everybody else?" Reid asked, trying to keep the investigation going. "My father, I know he's the one who's been taking everybody, too. He told me that mama shouldn't be the only one having fun." She told him, her expression never really changing.

"What do you mean, 'father'? I thought you had a papa? Unless you have two dads…?" Reid asked; the percentage of widowed or divorced men becoming gay is not as small as people tend to think. "No, no, my papa loves me. But when he gets angry, I don't like to think of him as my papa… he's my father when he's angry. He became my father when my mama died." She said coldly.

"How did your mama die?" Reid asked, genuinely concerned for this girl now, since a male nurse came in to change Celia's arm bandage as quick as he could, giving both a glimpse of her chemical burns.

"She was murdered by Arthur Shawcross when I was only 6. She was his only kill in New York City, and she was only there for a week…" she started sniffling, and tried holding back the tears. "It's okay if you cry-""I don't want to." Reid tried soothing her, only met with what little resistance the girl had. He just nodded, and sat for a minute, thinking.

"What does your papa do, Celia?" He asked after a few moments for the girl to calm down. "He's a mechanic. He fixes every car he sees, whether it's in his shop or broken down on the highway." She faltered when she said highway, and it did not go unnoticed. "Where is his shop located? Do you know?"

She thought for a minute. "He has two. One in the city and one next to our house, for people from the highway. He's a really nice man, you know." She gave a weak smile at Reid.

This making him sick. He knew that Celia knew that her papa, or father, did this to her, yet just called him a nice man. "Celia, I need you understand something. Your father may be a serial killer. Do you know where your house is, exactly, or who he'll take next?" Reid took on a more serious tone.

"My papa would never kill someone! He's the nicest man I've ever known, he just had a period when mama died where he hunted, but that's it. His hunting rifle is still on the rack where it's been for the past 15 years, in our living room. And no, I don't know. All I know is that we're next to I-64, in the woods, where nobody can see us." She was getting more and more hysterical, trying to calm herself down.

"Do you know if he had a permit for that gun? Do you know your father's name, Celia?" he asked, hoping to find out who was doing this.

At this point, something in her mind clicked. They were trying to take away her papa, the only person she had left in her entire life. They just wanted to take him away; like that man did to her mama. She wasn't going to let that happen. "No, I don't. All I call him is papa, that's all I've ever needed. His last name isn't the same as mine anymore, anyway. He gave mama's maiden name to me, instead of their married name. I don't even remember it." She said, and there was an obvious change in her demeanor.

Only two words were going through Reid's mind: Stockholm Syndrome. This girl was going to block the furthering of this case any way she could. But that didn't mean he still couldn't earn her trust.

"Why did he give you her last name, but not theirs?" He questioned, trying to get away from the blunt approach.

She thought for a moment, pondering how to respond. "He loved me like mama. That's why our names are so similar. But, she never called me Celia, she always called me Fiorella. I'm not sure why."

"Did you like your mama? Was she ever mean to you?" Reid asked, continuing on this road. She gasped, shaking her head vehemently. "I loved her! She was never mean to me… she taught me how to read music, play piano, and play violin. My papa always said that Shawcross needed to pay for taking his one love away, but that man was convicted so soon we didn't know she was going to be his last." She said, seeming to nod in agreement to herself.

"What did your mama do, what was her job?" He didn't know if this was going to reveal any answers, but no one never surely knew anything in this line of work.

"She was a dancer. That's why she was in New York, to finish something at Julliard. She met my papa back in Italia, and he moved with her when she was a teen to be with her. It's a really nice love story." She smiled, and unbeknownst to her, just gave a huge clue. He decided to stop pounding for answers, and get to know her. He had already comprised a profile of all three of them, albeit incomplete.

"So, you like music? Do you dance as well?" She shook her head gently. "No, I don't dance. I don't have the long legs for it. But I love music… every day I play the piano, or the violin, but I have to play Mountain Meadow each day. My mama loved dancing to it… she always joked with me about how both of us could never sing…" she stifled a giggle at the last part, thinking of her mama more and more.

What pieces do you like the most?"

The rest of the interrogation turned into getting to understand the girl… woman… Celia better. How she interpreted music, her home life, and everything else needed to complete her profile. It took the better of 4 hours to complete it, but she asked him to stay with her.

He obliged.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So, another chapter that just seemed to drudge on. The I-64 is (of course) an interstate that runs for miles and is the most confusing highway to an immigrant XD Thanks for reading :P**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I don't really like excuses, they're kinda useless, but this chapter meant to come out back on **_**June 20**__**th**__**.**_** It was missing a few paragraphs that I couldn't find the inspiration to write, but there were two deaths in my family that kept me from writing for a long time. I've started to get back into writing, and in this chapter, I think you'll be able to find the paragraphs I've recently written. I'll probably go back to change them at some point, so yeah. Sorry for the long note, just needed to explain upfront. Please point out any mistakes of the characterizations as well.**

Reid was still waiting in Celia's hospital room, getting occasional updates as he pieced together the case. The profile of Celia's father was coming along well, and he seemed to be getting calls every hour. Celia had gone back to sleep a while ago, sedated. It was nearing 12 am, and Reid knew he had to leave soon to go home and rest, but not until he was finished putting down the information he had gathered. He was unsure why; he had an eidetic memory after all.

That was until his phone rang yet again. He picked it up, even though he knew most of the members had already headed home. He flipped open his phone, seeing it was a text message and not a call. The first thing he noticed was the number was listed as 'Private' and the preview of the text only said 'multimedia content in this message'. Curiosity piqued, he opened the message only for his phone to ring loudly before it opened. It was Prentiss.

"Prentiss? What is it?" Reid picked up, unsure why she was calling. More victims? "Did you receive the text message with the video yet?" Her voice sounded rushed and slightly scared. He nodded, even though he knew she couldn't see. "Yeah, I was just about to open it before you called." An audible sigh of relief came from Prentiss' end. Reid was confused at this point. "What's in it?" "Look at it yourself. Just be prepared, it's not pretty. Hotchner and some support units are heading your way now as well." And with that mysterious piece of conversation, she hung up.

Thoroughly confused by now, he opened the message. It was some sort of video that started out in a dark room. He nearly jumped when the video flashed and adjusted to the newly turned on light. It was in a bedroom, of a blind-folded Celia tied to the same chair, yet with no sign but clothed. That quickly changed as the man behind whatever was used to record this cut open her shirt and tore off her shirt, and poured bleach on the girl. Reid swallowed, glancing over at Celia, and continued watching the video to his dismay. After a beating and more bleach, it went black.

After the video restarted, he quickly scrolled down to see the text portion. It simply said something that shook Reid slightly.

TAKE HER TO 21 EMBREY STREET AFTER SHE'S HEALED. ANYWHERE ELSE, AND ALL OF YOU DIE. I WILL TAKE HER WHEN I AM READY.

21 Embrey Street was Reid's address. He sat there, staring blankly at the message, reading it over and over again. So many questions were rushing through his mind at this point. A knock on the door to the room and the door slowly opening almost gave Reid a heart attack. He swallowed harshly when he looked up, just to find it was only Hotch.

Putting his phone away, he stood up. Both looked over as Celia adjusted herself in her sleep, eyes opening as she heard the door and footsteps. She gave an unmoving harsh gaze towards the female police officer. Hotch didn't hesitate as he motioned for Reid to follow him into the hallway to talk. "We're going to keep her in witness protection when she is ready to leave next week. We're going to need your cooperation to get this guy when he comes by your home to pick up Celia." "Are you sure Hotch? We don't know what he'll do and-" "I was hoping I'd meet no resistance in this." Reid wanted to resist and add his take on all this, but he realized it was better to follow Hotch's plan. He simply nodded, heading back in to see Celia sleeping again.

The week had passed fairly quickly for everyone, many people visiting Celia to get more information. She had been called a brat when she wouldn't talk unless there were no women with her. An altercation involving a bitten nurse was given the turned cheek and she was given the same male nurse to attend to her. He was the one who was given the bag of clothes labeled 'For Celia DaMilo' that questioned just how good the security at the hospital was.

When she was released, she was wearing one of the outfits she was given. It was a simple green dress that matched with her (although currently lifeless) green eyes with black leggings and green flats. She had told the investigators they were clothes from her home, and the rest of her clothes were sent to be tested. She kept looking at her arm that was still wrapped in gauze; she knew it was much lighter and pinker than her olive skin tone, and she had a sullen look on her face the entire way to the BAU.

The entire team, sans Garcia, was in the conference room piecing together information everybody had obtained. Celia had her head resting in her arms on the table, staring at Reid, making him uneasy. She had said nothing to anybody in her entire time in the room.

All of a sudden, they heard a resounding boom reminiscent of a small bomb from a wing over. People flooded into the BAU, and everybody rushed out of the conference room, confused. Reid took Celia with him, getting her out along with the other members besides Hotch, who stayed behind helping people out of the now smoking wing.

"What's going on?" Hotch asked to an agent he recognized who was a part of the mob coming in. The agent shook his head, trying to make a noise, but unable due to shock. After people had been evacuated to outside and bomb squad and firefighters on their way, the captain from the bombed wing came up to Hotch, with a letter in his hand.

The captain handed the charred letter to Hotch silently. It was addressed to Hotchner and Reid, after all. Hotch quickly opened it, the other captain next to him reading over his shoulder impolitely. Hotch crumpled it up as he read the threat, throwing it to the ground. It had read 'WHY CAN YOU IDIOTS NOT LISTEN? CELIA IS OUT OF THE HOSPITAL NOW. IF SHE IS NOT AT 21 EMBREY STREET BY 4 PM TODAY, ANOTHER WING GETS DESTROYED. I WILL PICK HER UP NO EARLIER THAN 2 MONTHS.'

"Reid, make accommodation for Celia. Both of you need to leave now."

**A/N: This was painful to write. This made me remember why I like original fiction better. I just never feel comfortable writing another character. Ah, I should quit my whining I guess. Give some criticism if you have any, please? **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey thanks for continuing to read this. I wish I could reward you guys somehow. Are the pixels below enough?**

It had all happened so fast in Celia's eyes. She barely had enough time to react herself before Reid had grabbed her, and although he could admittedly have been gentler, he had gotten her out to safety. Then, in an even faster event, she was basically shoved into a dark car with all the windows tinted along with Reid. In only about 10 minutes she was being transported from the car to the inside of a small house that shared its walls with other similar houses on a street.

Reid seemed incredibly paranoid as he kept looking in all directions as she was basically pushed up the stairs and shoved into the first room, disoriented. She heard at least five locks be clicked on the front door.

She was sat down on a couch in the first room, with a stressed-looking Reid sitting down next to her.

Some uncomfortable time passed between them. Reid was getting calls left and right, one of which he quickly ended as Celia got up and wandered to the hallway.

"You have a keyboard…?" She asked off-beat, heading into the room to the right at the end of the hallway. It was a study of sorts; bookcases filled with books (what else…?), a desk filled with papers, his computer, and a keyboard to the left. Sitting down on the bench, she felt oddly safe in the room that, despite the fading sunlight from the window, felt closed and dark. Her posture was stick-straight and perfect, just as she had been taught. However, she kept her hands folded delicately in her lap, admiring the keyboard. Reid stared at her for a moment before she spoke again.

"We have a baby grand at my home. I've always wanted a synthesizer or a keyboard though; they can create some of the best sounds." She smiled, though still not touching the keyboard. "You can play it, if you want." Reid told her a bit sheepishly, an awkward silence having filled the room.

She gave a short gasp, turning to look at Spencer for confirmation. "Are you sure…?" She asked; Reid just nodded again, knowing she was raised in a place lacking in many things.

Later that night, there was a knock on the door and Reid quickly got up from his bed to see who it was. He checked through the peephole to see a police officer holding two paper bags. Reid opened the door, letting the tall man into his house. "Is there something I can help you with?" Reid asked as the man set the two bags down. "Just dropping off the clothes we received earlier. They're completely clean, but the bags had fingerprints that are unidentified so we kept them. I've also been assigned to make sure you and Celia DaMilo arrived here safely. Is she here?" The man questioned, voice rough and deep. Reid nodded, leading him down the hallway into the room Celia was sitting, silently at the keyboard; she had stopped playing her somber song as soon as the doorbell rang.

"Thank you, that's all I need. I'll be back to check in in a few weeks." He quickly headed off, leaving Spencer and Celia in another uncomfortable silence. "Who was that?" She finally piped up, still sitting and not facing Spencer. She sounded almost scared to Spencer. "Just an officer making sure you're here safely. He dropped off clothes for you. When did you get another bag?" He asked, earning Celia to get up and walk out. He followed her, eventually sitting on the couch in the living room next to her. "I… I guess I must've gotten them at the hospital, too. Or another came to the BAU." She said, rummaging through the bags. It consisted of underwear, pajamas, shoes, casual outfits, and even a cocktail dress. Celia just shrugged. The officer looked familiar to her.

"Do you want some dinner?" Spencer asked, breaking the silence that seemed doomed to be uncomfortable. Celia looked up at Spencer, thinking for a second. She shook her head no, standing up and heading into Spencer's room with her clothes in her arms. Quickly following 'suit, Spencer was about to protest when she started neatly folding her clothes on his bed in a pile. He stood there a moment before she spoke up. "What?" She flatly asked, a light redness on her cheeks. "I'm not used to somebody just watching me, like you are."

"I just… I don't really know." Reid told her, walking into his small kitchen after standing in the doorway awkwardly became even more uninteresting to him. He was followed by Celia, who looked halfway between confused and mortified when he pulled out a frying pan.

She took a step back, face going red. She wanted to cry. She made a little muffled noise and fell to the ground, coiled up in the fetal position. Reid turned around when he heard the strange 'thump' noise she made, gasping with what he saw.

He got down on his knees, a hand on her shoulder. "Celia? Celia, what's wrong?" Was she having a psychotic break? He was only met with a small wail of "Please don't hit me, please don't hit me, I love you, I'll do anything!" She was dry heaving. "Celia, listen to me, Celia, I'm never going to hurt you!" Reid wanted to shout it at her, but he knew that would just upset her more.

She stopped rocking back and forth, and stopped hyperventilating. The quietness was a bit eerie, and shocked both Celia and Spencer. She looked up, and then sat up; confusion was marked on her face. "What? Of course you'd never hit me, that's just silly." Her complete change of demeanor made Reid second guess his diagnosis of Stockholm Syndrome. If she was dissociative, it would just be that much harder. Also, when did it become a diagnosis? He wasn't a medical doctor. He quickly got up with Celia, patting her shoulder awkwardly.

He figured it would be best to just put this behind them. "I'm sorry, I just saw the frying pan, and I thought you were… nevermind. Are you going to make dinner…?" She asked, and he simply nodded. She went to sit at the small dining table, almost ashamed of herself.

All in all, it was a nice and short, albeit quiet, dinner. Everybody had had their nerves frayed. The entire day seemed to have just been a blur. Getting up and yawning, Celia got up and headed for bed. Well, more correctly, _Reid's _bed. He was in the doorway as she took off her shoes, dress, and leggings, and climbed into bed; his face was flushed. He was a bit of a prude, you see.

"Uh, um, C-Celia…" he stammered a bit, trying hard to not look like a little schoolboy. "Listen, Spencer, I'd rather we just do it now to get it over with." That part almost made Reid faint. "What're you talking about?" He had to gain some form of composure, but that was hard when he felt like his voice needed to crack.

She sat there for a moment. An awkward beat skipped between them. "Thanking you. You know, the 'good old-fashioned way'. My papa taught me how, so don't worry, I don't bite or anything." He gulped back a bit.

"What do you mean by you don't bite?" He asked, sobering up a bit from his embarrassment as soon as she mentioned her father. "You know, when I suck your pe-" "Woah, woah, Celia, what?" He rudely interrupted her, becoming a bit exasperated at what she was going to say.

It took quite a bit of explaining that her way of thanking someone was not quite the accepted way.

She looked a bit hurt when he brought her pajamas to put on; just a tank top and pants, but better than her underwear, he presumed. He turned his back as she dressed. "You know, other people liked it when I thanked them. Papa would take me to this club, and I would thank all the guys there. So, I'm guessing a lot of other things are wrong." She wanted to cry.

"That's not necessarily true. Listen, it's been a rough day; I'm going to go check up on the other members, and then go to sleep. I'll sleep on the couch, and you can sleep in here-" "Wait, don't go! I… I can only sleep when someone else is in the room." She herself didn't know if this was true or not.

He sighed, lying down on the bed next to her; at least her back was to him, and she faced the wall. He soon fell asleep, fully clothed and without any covers, without checking up on other members, and before Celia had fallen asleep. She had been having terrible insomnia lately.

She turned to her other side and stared at Reid, watching him all night. She realized this wasn't normal, but what he didn't know couldn't hurt him she rationalized.

**A/N: The piece I imagined Celia playing is by Susumu Hirasawa, called 'Gate of Paranoia' but the revised version used for Paranoia Agent's ending. I think I'll just say that's the closest to a weeaboo as she gets, so don't worry. As always, any criticism is appreciated, and thanks for reading. **


	6. Chapter 6

**I wish I could I have a normal uploading schedule. Sorry for the wait, hope this will satisfy you guys.**

* * *

><p>When Spencer awoke the next morning, it took him a bit to fully recognize where he was; he did not know why he was fully clothed, why there was a weird weight pressing down on his left arm, nor did he know what that weird sound was. All he did know was his phone was going off, and looking at the screen of his phone, it was Hotch calling him.<p>

At 10 am.

Spencer quickly shot out of bed, answering the call. Celia had never gone to sleep and so she just stared up at the man who had, in her mind, just abandoned her. "H-hello? Hotchner?" Spencer sounded exasperated, as he had had missed multiple calls from the BAU members.

"Listen Spencer, the only means of communication we have with you is calling. You need to be by your phone at all times, we were close to sending someone over there when you didn't call us last night. More videos have been sent and now his victims are popping in North Carolina, so we'll be heading down there. If you could, please try to question Celia about North Carolina." At that, Hotch hung up and Spencer just sat there, trying to filter everything in his just awoken state.

As Spencer stood there for a moment before putting his phone into his pocket, Celia sat up; the noise the rustling sheets made almost made Spencer jump. Turning around, it seemed everything from last night came full circle and he sighed. Tears welled up in Celia's eyes. Her small, malnourished frame was shaking as those tears threatened to spill. Spencer had a bemused look; why was she crying?

He sat down on the bed in front of her, placing his hand on her shoulder; he was trying to comfort her, but he didn't really have any experience with it. He was the awkward BAU member, the only one who had trouble with connecting to people. Celia stopped moving when he put his hand on her shoulder, and reacted violently. "Do not touch me!" Her English came out a bit broken and feeble, and she scratched Spencer's arm as she fumbled to get up and go past him, falling off the bed more so than getting off. As she hit the floor with a dull thud, she rocked back and forth, crying.

The events seemed to just fly by in Spencer's mind and he turned around, getting off the bed which was not all that high off the ground and he knelt down on the ground beside the girl. It tugged at him to see the girl almost having a breakdown simply by being touched.

"Celia?" He started, reaching out for her once again. He helped her sit up, her sobs racking her; she would still be rocking back and forth had Spencer's grip on her stopped her. Although it was loose, it felt tight to Celia, due to her fragility. She looked up at Spencer, sniffling. "Why do you want to kill my papa? Can't you see he loves me and was protecting me? He did nothing wrong!" Celia desperately wanted to scream, yet her voice came out at an average tone due to her throat being dry. Her voice cracked and she stood up, wobbling.

Trying to run out of the room, she tripped herself on the second step due to not being able to balance herself properly in such a distressed state. Spencer immediately shot up, going to her side; he saw the girls red face, shamed, blood starting to leave her nose. She stayed there and simply cried, self-pitying, while Spencer left to go get a box of tissues from the next room over.

Celia felt so discarded by him as she watched him leave but she couldn't muster up the energy to sit up and try to stand again. She was choking out sobs as Spencer came back in, helping the helpless girl sit up once again, and he placed a tissue underneath her nostril and he pinched the bridge of her nose.

The simple gesture made Celia stop crying so heavily; tears still came out, but she wasn't sobbing. Blinking her eyes a few times, she coughed, causing the blood to come out more. She tilted her head back, but Spencer slowly gripped her chin to pull her head forward again. "You shouldn't tilt your head back during a nosebleed. It does no good." His voice was soft and gentle, and the tears had almost stopped bursting forth from Celia. She simply nodded.

They sat there for a few more moments, and Spencer exchanged the bloody tissue for a new clean one. As the nose bleed stopped, Spencer finally released the pressure he was keeping on her nose. He pulled the tissue away, used a new one to clean off the blood that had gone onto her upper lip, and got up to throw them away.

He held out his arm for Celia to take and as she grabbed it, both of them realized how fickle she was. Merely bumping her nose had made her get a decent nosebleed. "Are you hungry, Celia?"

* * *

><p>Celia sat staring at the plate set in front of her. The only food she recognized was the French toast. There were these strange circular thing that were brown on one side and white on the other with something that looked like molasses and butter on them. There was also a biscuit cut in two; Spencer had also put butter on it. "Is something wrong? Do you not like pancakes?" Celia jumped when she heard the man across from her actually speak. She fiercely shook her head and stared intently at the food.<p>

"Sometimes I couldn't even eat because my throat would get so dry. But my papa always let me drink something and he let me eat some bread. He really isn't such a bad man like you guys think." She took a sip of her water, and took a small bite out of her biscuit.

Spencer sat there for a moment, contemplating; he could approach this situation by one of two ways: he could disagree and encourage Celia to actively dislike her father and try to get her to understand what he did was not as okay as she seemed to think it was. Or, he could agree with her. He thought about it, determining which one would allow him better access to information.

"Okay, Celia, I believe you. If you say he's great, he really must be." He smiled as Celia gave one too. His eyes drifted to her shoulder, and the burns made him sick. Her reasoning and logic was solidifying his earlier thoughts of her being afflicted with Stockholm Syndrome.

"So, what are 'pancakes'? I've never heard of them." Her small voice was trying to make conversation, and Spencer gladly obliged her.

The rest of breakfast was pleasant, as was most of the afternoon. When 2 pm had rolled around, he left his study to check up on Celia; after breakfast she had lied down for a while and then gotten up sometime later to play the piano. Spencer found her on the piano bench, playing a Movement of Moonlight Sonata; the second one, he believed.

"You're really good, Celia." He sat down next to Celia, trying to make her comfortable. There was no sense in not making her like him and open up to him, as that was exactly what they needed.

"Thank you." Her voice was small and a bit far off; she was busy focused on tapping two keys repeatedly before she returned to playing a small portion of the movement. Spencer continued where she left off, and stopped after a few minutes. They both sat in silence, which Spencer did not expect.

Celia turned her head to look at Spencer, her green eyes not meeting his dark ones; she stared ahead, eyes on his neck simply because it was there. "When will I get to see my papa again?"

Spencer almost choked on the air he was breathing; he had no response. What could he say? 'Preferably in a body bag, and then we'll turn you over to become a ward of the state and get you counseling, but don't worry; it'll all work out for you!'? No, he was simply just not that cynical. In his very well thought out response, he gave an awkward shrug.

Maybe it wasn't as well thought as he would have intended.

Celia's eyes flickered between his chin, his shrugged shoulders, and his chest; she was trying to see through him, but that wasn't working out quite too well. She shook her head, returning back to looking down at the piano keys.

"Celia, did you ever attend school?" It was another attempt to get the girl to open up. "No. Everything I ever learned was from my papa. I'll never forget the day I learned how to swim; we were down in North Carolina…" As she reminisced, Spencer could not believe how easily his new plan worked.

"Did you go down to North Carolina often?" he prodded her; he had no idea how much she would give. "No… that's where my mama is buried. That's the only reason we went down there in the first place." Her voice went up a half-note; to a lot of people, this would go unnoticed, but to a trained ear such as Spencer Reid, he knew he touched a subject that might be sensitive. "Do you miss your mother, Celia?" He got a bit closer to her, his voice getting quieter and more soothing. It was an effective way to convey your sympathy, something he did not always know how to get across.

"The weather was horrible in North Carolina. It rained every day on the Outer Banks and it was cold. Except for the day I went to the beach with my papa; we had so much fun…" It seemed more like she was talking to herself. Her voice was distanced and a bit lacking in any enthusiasm. Spencer nodded his head. "Was your father upset over your mother's passing?" He made a mental note to write down the possibility of the mother's death leading to the father's derailed sanity and thus leading to abuse and psychopathy, possibly even sociopathy. "My papa is nice, Spencer. He's a good man." Her accent was coming out a bit, as if she was exaggerating it on purpose.

Spencer nodded again. "Do you look like your mother, Celia?" Her gaze slowly drifted back to Spencer's neck as she turned her head toward him. "It was hard to learn how to swim. My papa kept leading me out farther and farther. But, he said he was always there right behind me. See? He's a good man, he didn't do anything wrong. Stop thinking he did." She got up, her emotionless gaze never faltering as she walked off to sit on the couch.

It was three for three; he had asked three questions about her mother, and she had deflected each one. He got up himself and he went back to his place in the study, continuing his reading on Stockholm Syndrome, Depersonalization Disorder, and put his notes into the building profile.

It was going to be tough as he heard Celia imitating the children on the show she was watching as she sang to the SpongeBob theme song and eventually answered the questions posed by Steve on Blue's Clues. 

* * *

><p><strong>Well, a pretty good start if I may say so. Please tell me any mistakes, comments, or general other things! I'd love for input on disorders, the characters actions (I'm afraid of OOC…) and so on!<strong>

**And yes, for some reason, SpongeBob is on right before Blue's Clues in the middle of the afternoon.**


End file.
